overboard and was given up for dead.”
“We saw him—his body—in the morgue in Dublin.”
Ellen nods. “I know, I read your letters.”
Matilda stares down at the water, at the waves cresting against the hull. “Did you kill the guard?”
“I would not do such a thing,” Ellen replies. “I have not taken a single human life in more than two hundred years.”
“Dracul, then?”
“Dracul,” she says. “He found Patrick O’Cuiv in much the same way you did: those hideous scars. He hoped Patrick would lead him to me. He had been following Patrick since the day he fell off the boat in Dublin. Patrick hoped to lose him by boarding a ship, but Dracul has no such fear of water. In truth, I am not sure he fears anything anymore. He gave chase. Patrick panicked and tumbled over the side. I beat Dracul to the morgue by mere minutes, was able to replace Patrick’s heart and revive him. Then we escaped, with Dracul on our heels. He killed the guard because the guard saw his face, no other reason but that.”
“Did he kill Thornley’s coachman? I thought it was Maggie.”
“Maggie has never taken a human life, and I doubt she ever would. She may possess a temper, one that sometimes gets the better of her, but a murderer she is not. I’m sure it was him.” Ellen falls silent for a moment, then goes on. “Dracul has no regard for human beings. When I escaped his castle, he killed every servant, vowing never to allow another human in his home again. Mothers, fathers, children—he killed them all out of nothing more than spite. He reveled in their suffering.”
Ellen finally turns to Matilda, who truly is able to look upon her for the first time since childhood. Her eyes burn the brightest of blues with such energy that they nearly glow. Her pale skin is perfect, free of age, much as it had been fourteen years ago. Her flowing blond hair is pulled back and hidden under her cloak, but Matilda knows it has not darkened. This is the Ellen she remembers, the Ellen she will always remember.
Ellen steps closer and places her cold hand on Matilda’s. “I cannot allow you and your brothers to continue pursuing this quest with me, it is far too dangerous. The only reason Dracul allowed you to live this long is because he knows he can use you against me, you and Thornley both. With Bram, Dracul’s reasoning is far worse. He is fascinated by Bram, by the fact that my blood healed him and gave him abilities he would not otherwise possess.”
“The way he heals?” Matilda ventures.
“Yes, the way he heals. Increased eyesight, the enhanced hearing. His strength, his energy, his mind. And his link to me. How long will he live? Longer than most? Not as long? How many of these attributes are truly his and how many are born of my blood? He was expected to die as a child, and he would have died had I not intervened. But he is living on borrowed time.”
“He owes you a debt of gratitude,” Matilda allows. “We all do,”
“You owe me nothing. I am leading you to your death. I spent so many years trying to keep you safe, keep you away from me, and yet here we are together.”
“We are all here by choice. What he did to you I find it unimaginable. If we can somehow help reunite you with your true love and repay you for all you have done for us . . . There is no question why we are here. We are here for you. You are part our family.”
Ellen considers this assertion and squeezes Matilda’s hand. “Thank you for your letters, Matilda. Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts.”
The boat rocks as the waves increase in size, and an icy wind blows in from the east. “There is a storm brewing.”
Ellen sighs at this, her mind otherwise lost to thought. “You should return to your cabin,” she finally says.
“You should rest, too.”
“I’m afraid this is the last rest I will find for a very long time.”
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